Beautiful Disaster
by theonewithjoeyandrachel
Summary: When he comes home, he finds himself standing outside his apartment, hoping that when he walks in, she'll be there, sitting in his chair, wearing that damn Knicks sweater that he can't even look at anymore, and waiting for him to come home so she can tell him about her day. Then he goes inside, and his chair is empty, and he swears his heart breaks in half.


**Beautiful Disaster.**

_She's just the way she is_

_But no one's told her that's okay._

* * *

Joey noticed right away how different she was acting after her and Ross broke up. The first thing he noticed was how abnormally quiet she was. She would hardly speak unless she was spoken to. Joey had never seen her like that before. He had asked Monica if she noticed anything different, and she had blamed it on the breakup.

"_It's just because she's upset about Ross. She'll be fine."_

A week or so later, and it was like she was back to herself, around Joey at least. He had made sure to treat her like nothing was different, but he still reminded her that they were all there for her, that they were all on her side, every chance he got.

He would come home sometimes, though, and he would find her curled up in his Barcalounger, waiting for him to come back. She would jump up so fast, he couldn't even react before she was in his arms, clinging to him for dear life and crying into his shirt. He would sit them in his chair, she would curl up in his lap, and he would hold her until she calmed down, whispering words of comfort and reassurance in her ear.

"You're the only one who doesn't treat me different," she would tell him.

"They're just worried about you, Rach. They want to help you. They want you to get better."

"I want me to get better, too."

He still remembers talking to Rachel every single day, always asking her how she was, or inviting her out to a Knicks game, or just a walk in Central Park. She would agree, always, because she didn't want to see Ross. She didn't want to sit in her apartment, nervously picking at her nails while he spoke to Monica about how he was thinking about moving on or whatever, just to make her jealous. Instead, she had been spending all her time with Joey. He had been the one she'd talk to late at night until she fell asleep. He would tell her everything that was bothering him, and she would do the same. They'd helped each other. They'd healed each other.

He remembers that day he came into his apartment and he was so shocked to find Rachel curled up in his Barcalounger, dressed in a pair of jeans and his favorite Knicks sweater that came down to her knees. If it was anyone else, he would've yelled and complained and never let them forget it, but it was Rachel and how could he have been mad at her when she looked so damn cute in his clothes?

It wasn't that she was in his apartment, he had realized, that surprised him. It was the fact that he had been in his apartment for over two minutes, and she hadn't moved from his chair. She hadn't jumped up and ran into his arms. She had just sat there, staring ahead at the blank television screen. He didn't think she even knew he was home.

He remembers slowly making his way over to her, kneeling down in front of his chair, asking her what was wrong. She had told him that Ross was back with Julie. He remembers the feeling of overprotection that had taken over when he saw her so broken, so fragile. He had told her how sorry he was, even if it wasn't his fault. He had told her that everything would be okay, that Ross wasn't worth all the pain she was going through. He held her until she cried herself to sleep in his arms, her face finally free of worry or stress or anything else that Joey never wanted to see there again.

If someone asks Joey what the most important thing in his life is, he doesn't even hesitate before answering: Rachel.

And even though she's not in his life anymore, not really, he still loves it when someone asks that question. Because at least he can pretend she is.

He wonders what would have happened if he had told her how he felt. He wonders if she would have changed her mind, if she would have stayed for him.

He sits in his chair sometimes, and he swears it smells like her – that mix between lavender and vanilla that was so indescribably _Rachel_. Then he moves to the couch, because he just can't stand it.

He can't get that image of her in his sweatshirt out of his head sometimes. He closes his eyes, and there she is, sitting in his chair and looking up at him with those big blue eyes that Joey never even got to tell her how beautiful he thought they were.

Sometimes, late at night, when he's watching _Die Hard_, he can hear her laughing at how stupid she thinks it is, telling him to turn it off and switch to something she likes because she is the guest, after all. So he does. He switches to _Weekend At Bernie's_, because he was the only one who knew that was really her favorite movie.

When he comes home, he finds himself standing outside his apartment, hoping that when he walks in, she'll be there, sitting in his chair, wearing that damn Knicks sweater that he can't even look at anymore, and waiting for him to come home so she can tell him about her day. Then he goes inside, and his chair is empty, and he swears his heart breaks in half.

There's a lot of things he will never understand, like how, despite what everyone else says, Chandler can be so normal after the way he was raised, or why Monica is so damn obsessed with cleaning, or how Phoebe's mother could leave her.

But the one thing he will _never_ understand is Ross. He'll never understand how he can bitch and moan and complain about how much he loved Rachel, but treated her like crap whenever she was around. And, yeah, maybe he had been trying to help, but didn't he know that if he hadn't fucked things up in the first place, she'd still be with them? Joey wants nothing more than to tell him that, but what good would it do?

It had been one of the worst days of his life. He had walked into apartment 20 and saw her passed out in the middle of the living room. He remembers the lump in his throat and the tears burning the back of his eyes as he called for an ambulance.

He remembers feeling for a pulse, and seeing the scars. He had tried so hard to stay calm, but it had been too much for him to handle. He thought about going across the hall to get Chandler, but he realized he would have to leave her, even if it was only for a second, and that was the last thing Joey wanted to do. So he held onto Rachel's hand as tightly as possible, because if he let go, he was afraid Rachel would too.

If he had the chance to see her again, he would yell at her. He would yell, and scream and cry. He would ask why in the world she would want to put them through it.

But then he would hug her. He would hug her so hard until she couldn't breathe and even then, he probably wouldn't let go. Because he misses her, and nothing's been the same since she left.

At first, he was hoping and praying that it was all a cruel joke. That he would walk into apartment 20, and Rachel would be standing there, huge smile on her face, laughing about the whole thing. But then a week went by, and he just had to accept it. Rachel was gone. She was gone, and she was never coming back.

He visits her, sometimes. He tells her about his day, he tells her what they've been doing since she left, he tells her how much he misses her. And he swears that sometimes, he can feel her hugging him, telling him that she's happy now, telling him not to cry for her, that she loves them all. But sometimes he cries anyway.

He still can't even go near Central Perk. He can't handle the looks of sympathy he gets from Gunther, the picture that he hung above the counter so they would all remember her. As if they would forget her. She was one of their favorite people, and having to see her every damn time he steps foot in her former workplace and favorite place to hang out, that's brutal.

Sometimes they all sit in Monica's apartment, look through old pictures, and before they know it, they're all crying. They talk about what a good person she was, and Monica tells them stories about when they were kids.

_It's funny_, he thinks to himself, _how you don't even realize how much you miss something until you wake up one day and it's suddenly just taken away from you_. The two of them would always meet for lunch, something they would do - just them. He would ask her where she wanted to go, she would always tell him the same place – a deli that was a few blocks away from the coffeehouse – and he would complain about it the whole time, saying he would choose where they ate the next day.

"No, you won't," she would state simply before laughing at the expression on his face.

He never, in a million years, thought that he would miss it. _It's not the deli you miss_, he thinks bitterly. _It's your best friend_.

He was mad, at first. Mad that he had never suspected it, mad that he couldn't help her, mad that she hadn't talked to anyone – she just left them. No warning, no goodbye. Just memories. But then sometimes Joey thinks that's enough, because at least they were good memories.

He's kind of glad now, though. Not that she did it, but that she did it so suddenly. He's heard of people who left notes, and he's glad that wasn't her, because he knows none of them would be able to handle it. He knows _he _wouldn't be able to handle it.

He hasn't spoken to Ross since it happened. Not because he feels like it's his fault, but because every time he talks to him, he expects Joey to feel sorry for him. He tells him how he never stopped loving her, and Joey has to wonder why he would ever cheat on someone he was in love with in the first place.

Sometimes he blames himself – not just himself, but Monica, Chandler and Phoebe too – because how could they not see it coming? She was supposed to be their best friend, and they had all promised her that they would always be there for her, and how must she have been feeling to have even thought about it? But then he remembers that they did everything they could, that they can't control someone's thoughts. He still wishes they could have done something, anything to stop her, and maybe she didn't want them to know, but Joey can't help but wonder why.

Joey can't set foot in that damn deli anymore. For the first few months after it happened, he couldn't even walk past it. But it's been almost a year, and he knows she wouldn't want him to be so upset, but he just can't help it.

He will never forget the months following her hospitalization. He can remember crying for days as he sat next to the hospital bed, his hand never leaving Rachel's as he prayed for her to wake up.

"_Lack of nutrition." _That's what the doctors had told them, as if they hadn't already known.

He can remember the nurses hand-feeding her to make sure she ate all of the food the hospital gave her. He can remember all four of them, taking turns watching her to make sure she wouldn't go into the bathroom to force it all back out of her body.

He can remember fighting with everything in him just to get her to smile or hear her laugh and failing every time. Walking on glass around her, afraid that anything he said would push her back into her old habits. Until one day she finally smiled a real smile and laughed her laugh that he missed so much. And their Rachel - _his _Rachel - was back.

After she came home, he no longer worried about himself. He only worried about Rachel, he only did what was best for Rachel. He made sure she ate and he hardly said anything to her, afraid any little words would make her cry.

He remembers Chandler telling him that no one would put themselves through that unless they were in love.

"_I'm not in love with Rachel."_

Chandler had warned Joey that she wasn't in the same place as him, that he was only setting himself up for heartbreak.

"_I'd rather it be me than her, anyway."_

He never saw it coming. And maybe, just maybe, he should have. He saw her every damn day, for God's sakes, and he had never even thought it would come so far. He still thinks that he could have done something, he could have gotten her help, he could have talked her out of it.

Chandler tells him there's nothing he could have done – there's nothing any of them could have done – but Joey doesn't believe him, because they were _best friends_ and Joey had always thought he knew her so well.

There are nights when he just can't stop thinking about it. Hearing Monica crying and pounding on his door, finding Rachel's lifeless body on the bathroom floor, a bottle of pills laying beside her. He just can't get the image out of his head, and of all the ways he ever thought he would remember her, this is not what he imagined.

Sometimes he still cries. He cries because, no matter what anyone tells him, he feels like it's his fault. He cries because he thought he knew his best friend, and he never ever thought she would do something like this, and maybe if the thought never crossed his mind, they weren't as close as he thought they were.

He swears he will never forgive himself, and he'll always blame himself for not doing more for her when he still could, no matter what Monica, Chandler and Phoebe say.

If he could tell her anything, he would apologize. He would tell her how sorry he is for everything Ross put her through. He would apologize for not realizing what she was thinking, for not helping her through it. If he could tell her anything, he would tell her that she was one of the best things that's ever happened to him. He would tell her how beautiful he thought she was, that he could never understand what was going through her head, what in the world she saw when she looked in the mirror because it sure as hell wasn't what he saw. He would tell her that he's been trying to move on, because if she knew, that's what she would want, but it's just so damn hard because no one compares to her. If he could tell her anything, he would tell her that he forgives her. He would tell her that he hates Ross for what he did to her, and he would tell her that he misses her more than anything. If he could tell her anything, he would tell her how happy he is that she's finally happy. He would tell her that she was so much stronger than she thought she was, that her smile could light up the whole room – no, the whole building – that he's so glad that he got the chance to know her and call her his best friend. He would tell her that he would eat lunch with her at that crappy old deli every day of his damn life, as long as she was happy. If he could tell her anything, he would tell her that he loves her.

* * *

**Used to be 'I'll Stand By You', but I edited it so it was all one chapter. **


End file.
